


For My Soul

by Pixeled



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Cancer, Death, Dying Wish, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Veld has regrets, dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21608164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: Veld was dying. He was an old man, and Vincent? Well, he was eternally young, still as young as he was when he entered that basement many years ago. He hadn’t survived it, and yet here he was, standing in the rain with Veld, the water pouring over his hair and cloak. The inky raven tresses stuck to his lips, and Veld wanted to brush them aside and kiss him. But he didn’t.In which Vincent becomes judge and executioner, for Veld’s soul.
Relationships: Vincent Valentine/Veld
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	For My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Written to Azaleh and Sublab’s “For My Soul”

Veld was dying. He was an old man, and Vincent? Well, he was eternally young, still as young as he was when he entered that basement many years ago. He hadn’t survived it, and yet here he was, standing in the rain with Veld, the water pouring over his hair and cloak. The inky raven tresses stuck to his lips, and Veld wanted to brush them aside and kiss him. But he didn’t. 

Veld was soaked and his cigarette cherry kept going out. Just as well, he thought. The things might kill him quicker than the cancer. 

Elfé had died this way, he mused. He’d held her in his arms when her light went out, when she joined the lifestream. He’d been retired for years, enjoying the quiet mountainside with her, just being a father, a simple man. He was pretending. He could never have been those simple things. That’s why he’d come back after she died—to be head of the Department of Administrative Research once more. Tseng had simply stood down, but Veld saw the look in his dark Wutain eyes. He wouldn’t have to wait long, he knew. He was dying soon. He felt it in his bones. 

“Got a favor for you,” Veld said to the quiet man beside him. 

“Is that why you called me here?” Vincent asked. 

“Call me boss? One last time?” he asked. 

“Sure thing, boss,” Vincent said. So loyal, even now. Even after everything that had happened. Even after Veld had betrayed him. Old habits died hard. 

“I’m dying. I saw Elfé die in a hospital bed. I don’t want that for me,” he said quietly. “Maybe it’s selfish of me to ask, but I want it to be you. To end it all.” 

Vincent only stared at the horizon, where Edge turned to rolling mountains, the ruined city of Midgar beyond them. 

Quietly, he nodded. 

Later, Veld laid in his bed with his regrets and his inner turmoil. His wet cough from weeks ago never went away. He decided against doctors months ago, when they showed him the results of his CT scan. The cancer had spread. They offered him science, but they’d have to cut him open. He decided against treatment. He’d live his days out here in Edge, doing what he did best. 

But he was a mess, and he knew it. He got tired frequently. He needed to rest more often. He was slowing down, his body failing him. 

Days later, when he could barely smoke without breaking into a fit of coughs and his single malt whiskey tasted like ash in his mouth, everything he ate coming back up, he made his mind up. It was time. He called Vincent, and to his surprise the man picked up like he had been waiting for his call. 

Veld opened the door, left it half ajar, and went back to bed. Just as he was drifting off, the rain started back up, pattering against the window. Vincent was there, hair a dark halo. Veld smiled weakly. Here he was, his judge and executioner, dark and beautiful.

“I’m ready,” Veld said, and when Vincent came forward, Veld withdrew his own gun from under his pillow. He pressed it into Vincent’s hand and settled back. The rain became louder on the window like a staccato. 

Vincent took the gun and sat on the edge of the bed, peering into Veld’s honey brown eyes with his crimson red. The look said everything Veld needed to hear. 

“Bury me with her?” Veld whispered, and Vincent nodded silently. It was as good as a promise. “For my soul.”

Vincent leaned down to kiss Veld one last time. 

A day later, it was still raining. Vincent had dug a grave, had laid Veld’s body in it, and made a crude cross with wood by the stone of Elfé’s resting place. It would have to do. For Veld’s soul.


End file.
